


fly out to alaska

by lem0n_b0y



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, hhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 10:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lem0n_b0y/pseuds/lem0n_b0y
Summary: homesickness, toxic mentalitys, and bad coping mechanism. it's a shit show based off a song.also includes substance abuse, angst, and homophobia/biphobia





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact I don't really care for shalaska but this idea came to me and i spent too much trying to plan out the idea. not letting it go to waste. this fic gonna be big sad.

Homesickness is often bittersweet. The overall thoughts of those nostalgic streets signs that always hung a little crooked and faces that seemed to always seem unpleased by your most recent style choice could pinch your heart strings at just the thought of your new life. The new life that you had chosen over those busy roads, loud neighbors, and seemingly loving family. While that may all seem not so great, you always remember the good more than the bad. Those good night's you spent running around town, high off of pure euphoria. Those nights spent with the friends you had decided to leave behind. But for what good reason? 

Sometimes in your dreams the reasons why you left in the first place surface back up like the acne you thought you left in the 10th grade. It's those sticks and stones of words that somehow subconsciously turn into these giant monsters who claw at the back of your head. The insults, the fights, the bruises, the tears- they come back in those dreams. Those bittersweet feelings get just a bit more bitter in the lucid fights for reality; to wake up. All you need is a wake up call.

 

The rumble of the appending rainstorm was the daily wake up call for Sharon. Not the life changing one that she had been searching for. The search seemed like looking for a needle in a hay stack; an almost impossible task.

Those daily wake up calls normally came in the form of mother nature. The greyscale sky grumbled as a warning for the citizens of the small town that Sharon had come accustomed to. The groggy mornings were common, but something that she had also come to love. There was something in the smell of the wet earth in the mornings paired with her Marlboros that brought her one inch closer to feeling at home.

Each roll of thunder slowly brought the young woman back into the reality. Her hazey eyes slowly open to be faced with the familur interior of her remodeled but still trusty and dusty truck. On her 18th birthday she had gotten the best present any teenager could ever ask for; a car. Little did she know that the car she would receive was an old 1963 Dodge D. Sure it had some work done but as long as it was running she was content. Every morning since switching scenery, she was graced with the view of the inside of her old reliable.

Stretching her arms out in the little space she could, the silver haired woman let's out a loud yawn. The rubbing off her eyes to slowly awaken fully, she stares at the metal ceiling. A small hole that was covered with electrical tape had slowly began to peel off. "Well shit." Her voice raspy, she pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance. The hole came undone so often that changing the tape was a weekly chore. Scrambling her hand onto the glove box that was full of miscellaneous items, her slim fingers seach for cursed black tape. Empty boxes of cigarettes fall onto the floorboard before she can even get her hands onto the tape.

The recovering of the hole was just the start to her Mondays. Leaning up her faux leather seat that was torn from its seams in some spots, Sharon starts up the elderly truck with the most fitting pair of keys you can find this side of the toolbox- a screw driver. The engine begins to purr like a cat with a hairball stuck in its throat. Tapping her bitten, horribly chipped, and black painted nails over the steering wheel, Sharon looks to the field in front of her.

This is what she called home. An abandoned field that was adjacent to a family ran farm. These acres of unclaimed land was her home. Across her yard the storm inches closer. The rain can been seen miles away, pouring onto the edge of her homestead. Leaning forward into the wheel, she sits there just staring at the rainfall. The rain was comforting. It used to rain a ton where she was from, so much rain that she had loved so much. Parts of her homesick mind had convinced herself that the storms were sent from her old stomping grounds as a present. A small sting that came with the present makes her sit back against her seat as she pulls out of the field to the nearby road. 

The roads were gravel, but since the rain has slicked the small grey rocks, she had no worry about driving through a cloud of dust as she goes into town. While there was no dust, there was no light. The green pines tower over each side of the narrow road, making the ability of any light to peak into the road almost impossible. No twinkle of a star could been seen in the small strip of dark skies that stood above the road. Sharon's half lidded eyes focused on the flickering of her headlights as the long stretch of road flows seemingly endless.

She was aching for nicotine. Her temples were throbbing with withdrawal from the cursed substance. She had just gotten paid the night before but her exhausted body somehow managed to get her to the field safely for her to finally rest. Finally having the energy to drag her body into town was just enough for her body remind her that nicotine was badly needed. Each bump in the road that sent her small truck jumping gently in the air just sent pulses of pain into her head. 

As the trees appear in less dense clusters, Sharon gets the indicator that town was just around that one last curve in the road. Upon turning, the town was in sight. 

Even with the rainy weather trailing behind the red truck, the citizens of the cozy town were awake and starting the day. The bus passed by Sharons dented old reliable on the way to pick up kids, the gas stations were full of trucks that had needed has during their long journeys, and open signs lit up in windows. The town was awake for sure, and Sharon was glad. Pulling into the parking lot of the small smoke shop, she quickly flings her door open to plant her torn up boots onto the ground. Scurrying into the woodrot covered exterior, Sharon quickly opens the door. It was like a kid on Christmas who couldn't wait to get their hands on presents. Her boots tap against the tile floor, hitting every back breaking crack. "Gooood morningggg Mister Simon!" The silver haired regular cheers out, laying a twenty onto the counter. Without missing a beat, the older man presents the young woman with 3 boxes of her typical brand. Along with a black lighter, the man smiles. "Mornin Shar. You're up early."

"Early bits catches the worm I guess?" Biting her tounge, Sharon smiles back brighter, backing away from the counter with her small boxes in arm. 

"Heavy smokers catch cancer you know. You're too young to be such a heavy smoker." Simon grumbles out as his back is turned, unpacking a box of cigars. Sharon sure was a regular in the store, too regular for Simons taste. She presses her back against the door as is about to exit that cozy warm store. "Live fast, die in you fortys! Why do think I have so many tattoos? Can't regret them when you know what age you plan to clock out at." 

As she presses her back against the door, she is quickly in full shock as her whole body hits the gravel outside. The quick moment having thrown Sharon into the loop, she lays confused looking up at the grey clouds above with Simons laughter being heard from only yards away. Looking for an answer as she props her body up, Sharon is greeted with a blonde woman with a hand extended. Seemingly in her 20s, her hand was visibly shaking. In the moment, Sharon had assumed it was out of nervousness. "I'm so so sorry, I wasnt looking when I opened the door! Are-are you okay??" 

The first thing that the older woman who is still sat in stones notices is her dark eyes. Somehow they are a deep brown that slowly fades to a medium blue as it greets the outskirts of the pupils. The next thing Sharon pin points is her blonde hair. It clearly wasn't natural, it seemed as if she had bleached it with the old sunlight and peroxide trick. Hues of light orange were the give aways. Nodding and getting herself up, Sharon smiles at the nervous fake blonde. "It's no problem, I'll be okay. Watch where you're going next time though." Picking up her loose cartons of cancer, she slowly heads to her car to avoid Simon running out to make fun of her royal fuck up. It was mostly her fault but she had to give thanks to the young woman who didn't notice her back in the doors window.

She throws her boxes into the passenger seat except for one. Prying off the plastic that was the only thing away from her and getting rid of the monstrous headache, Sharon quickly pops a white filtered cigarette in between her lips. Lighting it took almost too long for her standards, but luckily the lighter she was gifted wasn't a dud as she feared. The sweet inhale of nicotine riddled smoke was music to Sharon's unhappy temples. Her headache quickly disappearing, she leans into her seat.

As smoke fills the cockpit, she focuses on the blonde leavingb the store. She walked in a riddged way, much like a widow that has the life sucked out of her. "What is her deal?" Sharon whispers to herself as her icy blue eyes follow the girl as she walks down the road. The smoke starts accumulating so much that it becomes difficult for her to see the woman. Sadly before Sharon could air out the car, the woman had disappeared from sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, sorry bout it.

A jukebox hummed a soft slow tune in the background as Sharon sits at the counter of the diner. She visits every Monday to treat herself to her regular order, a cup of coffee. Two sugars, one creme, and a teaspoon of cinnamon. Perfect recipe for the humid start of the day. Each stir resulting in a small clash agaisnt the ceramic mug. 

Ting-Ting-Ting. Metal against the moderately fragile container.

She watches the cooks as they fry eggs, flip pancakes, and fill up mugs with coffee. The diner was busy on weekdays, the truckers filled each seat. Vociuous chats of their travels fill Sharon's ears, the tune in the background barely detectable. She liked the noise as it helped distract her from anything that's on her mind. Those 30 mintutes of slowly drinking coffee helps set her up for the week. 

Rushing behind the counter in a classic waitress outfit was a common face to Sharon. Violet was the only person she could comfortably call a friend in the town of nobody's. Her sheer black hair that was pulled into a tight pony tail, bounced behind her as she delivers plates of bacon and eggs to many of the loud men. It was almost comical how animated Violet looked, it was as if she was taken straight from a cartoon in the 40's.

Stirring her half drunken glass, Sharon smiles as she watches the raven haired woman run around frantically to fill orders. Ting-Ting-Ting. The smallest noise can draw so much attention.

Violet, with a coffee pot in hand stops promptly in front of the older woman who had been watching her every step. "Need a refill?" Her perfectly plucked brow raising with the corners of her lips. 

"Why not. Will you bring me-"

"Two packs of sugar and a creme? Of course." 

Sharon smiles slightly, exhaling slowly through her nose. She was indeared by the close guess to get regular coffee. As Violet is turned around to grab the ingredients for her, she calls out the missing piece. "Hey V, don't forget the cinnam-" 

As she heads back to Sharon, in hand is sugar, creme, and a small container of cinnamon. Placing them in front of her before pouring the dark liquid, she winks. "I wouldn't forget your special ingredient Shar." Resting herself against the counter and placing the coffee pot next to her, Violet holds her face in her hands. 

Ting-Ting-Ting. Stirring her creation, Sharon sips the piping hot liquid. The burning feeling slicking the back of her throat along with the spice of her "special ingredient". Tapping her finger tips onto the warm mug, she shuffles on wobble stool. 

"So how have you been little miss outcast. Any new infected stick and pokes?" Violet pokes a manicured nail into Sharon's jacket sleeve with a curled smile on her lips. Gasping dramatically, Sharon rolls her eye at her friends teasing comment. "Haha, very funny. But no, I don't have any new tats." 

It was a one time thing that she would be shamed for until her demise. Sharon had given herself one homemade tattoo that ended with her having a bump of infected skin. She puts a hand  over where Violet poked and huffs. "So how's the woman hunting going? See any pretty girls that have caught your eyes?" Violet leans closer with her curled smile getting bigger. 

"I haven't been woman hunting!"

"Well have you seen any girls that suit your fancy?" 

"I'm really not looking to even think about dating anyone right now. If you didn't already notice, I'm just trying to figure my shit out." Sharon sips her still burning got coffee while Violet dramatically rolls her eyes at Sharon's lack luster of a comment. She was clearly not satisfied with the answer. "You can still window shop but not purchase."

Sharon squints her eyes at her pestering friend and sighs. "Fine. Saw a new girl go to Simons. She actually knocked me over but I rushed out of there."

"Was she hot? Did you talk to her?" Violets smile turns into a smirk as she slaughters her with so many questions. As she watches Sharon stutter to defend herself. "I didn't even get a good look at her! She actually knocked me down on accident as I was leaving."

"Which is code words for she knocked you head over heels?"

"No! After she apologized she ran into the store, we didn't even look at eachother."

That was a half lie. Sharon got a pretty okay look at her while she laid on the wet ground. Hard to forget the girl with terribly bleached hair and such pretty eyes that were taken straight out of a romance novel. It was such a cliche it made Sharon physically annoyed. Running a hand through her hair, she begins stirring her cup of coffee. "Do you think you'll see her again? Maybe she's just passing through."

Pouting her lips in the slightest as she thinks, Sharon shrugs. She assured herself that she wouldnt care if she never saw her again. Window shopping wasn't even on her mind. "Who knows. I'm not that pressed about it in all honesty. I have more things to deal with, especially my leaking roof." Her so called home needed a proper repair or better tape. Since getting her pay check, she knew that a stop by the store was in order to prevent the interior of her car becoming a pool. 

Violet opens her mouth to speak before she can hear a glass shatter across the diner. A young man has dropped his cup of orange juice. "Well we can talk more later, I have a mess to clean." Turning quickly and rushing to get a broom and towel, Violet speed walks to the mess.


End file.
